


Skin to Bone

by TheSinnerman



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Post-Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), Sammy's not okay, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 14:10:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19477513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSinnerman/pseuds/TheSinnerman
Summary: All it'd take was one cut. To the bone.





	Skin to Bone

_“Isn’t it lovely? All alone_  
_Heart made of glass, my mind of stone_  
_Tear me to pieces, skin to bone_  
_Hello, welcome home.”_

  
Sam lay limply on the bed, his gaze directed upwards, absent eyes engaged in following the cracks on the ceiling.  
He was tired. Lately, he was always tired. He’d stopped getting up except to go to the toilet, he ate and drank only what Dean and Bobby brought him, although he mostly didn’t feel like eating. He knew that, if he didn’t do it, Dean would force feed him, so he swallowed the bare minimum, sometimes threw up, sometimes not, then he went back to a catatonic state, waiting for the time to pass.  
Sam had stopped conversing. He gave monosyllabic answers or no answer at all. He lay, waiting to drift off, waiting for the nightmares to bring along the things he knew.  
Often _He_ spoke to him. _He_ was able to go on and on for days just for the pleasure of listening to his own voice, talking about nothing, or memories from the old days in the Cage, or how Sam was disappointing Dean and Bobby – Sam, such a poor, sad son of a bitch, a dead weight, so messed up he couldn’t even get out of bed.  
Sometimes Sam answered, sometimes he didn’t. Anyways, he never argued. He let Lucifer’s words flow over him, so cold and terrifying and painful and true, and then, only then, Sam felt alive. If it hurt, it meant he was alive. Dean and Bobby, with their kindness and sleep-inducing warmth, unknowingly made it worse, whereas Lucifer’s biting cold could shake him to the core.  
That day, Lucifer sat on the bed next to Sam’s head and ran his fingers through his filthy hair – no, the boy wasn’t going to get up to take a shower – whispering sweet, cruel words, and smiled at the way Sam flinched, as the apathy turned into terror.  
The Devil brought his mouth to Sam’s ear. “I’m the one who keeps you living, Sam”, he whispered, and Sam knew it was true. Lucifer kept him tethered to life; but he kept him tethered to the abyss, too. “Sammy, Sammy, what would you do without me?”, the archangel murmured while he touched him, hands so cold they burned. Sam basked in the sensation. His lungs widened and contracted _oh-so-fast_ , his heart pounding _oh-so-quickly_.  
It happened at times that Sam woke up crying in the middle of the night, after a particularly gruesome nightmare. As Dean and Bobby rushed in to calm him down, finally Sam was able to enjoy their company. He felt warm, safe and grateful, so grateful – they’d saved him, they’d got him out, _thank you thank you thank you_ …  
Then, as soon as Sam could breathe again, he started to want them gone. And when they did go away, _He_ was there with his sweet, sharp smirk, and Sam felt alive again.  
“Kill me”, Sam breathed.  
Lucifer stopped his monologue. “Come again, roomie?”  
Sam looked away from the cracks on the ceiling and met the Devil’s gaze. His pale eyes bore into his soul. He swallowed.  
“If I died, would I go back to the Cage?”  
Lucifer stroked his chin, intrigued. “Who knows”, he said eventually. “Maybe. Why don’t we try and see?”  
Sam fell silent for a few seconds. He nodded. “Kill me”, he whispered.  
The Devil burst into laughter. “You’re serious!” He looked at him affectionately. “I miss you too, kiddo. But unfortunately I can’t do this for you. It has to be you”.  
Sam gulped and lowered his gaze. “I don’t- I don’t think I can do that”.  
Lucifer gave him a sympathetic smile and petted his hair. Sam shivered at the feeling but he didn’t move, not even when his former torturer put a hand on his cheek.  
“Of course you can, Sammy. It’ll be like falling asleep”, Lucifer promised. “Just like in the Cage at the end of each day, after we were done. Didn’t it feel good to let go?”  
Sam nodded reluctantly. “It took away the pain”, he answered, unsure.  
Lucifer smiled. “Exactly! You could get rid of all this pain, Sam”. He leaned over to whisper in his ear. “There are a lot of knives in the kitchen drawer. Big brother’s out. It’s the right time, bunk buddy”.  
“What about Bobby?”, Sam asked, still undecided.  
Lucifer waved his hand as if to say it didn’t matter. “Busy doing stuff. He won’t be a problem”.  
Sam was still hesitating.  
“What is it, Sammy?”  
“You’ll hurt me”, Sam got out. He looked away, unable to stand those cold, cold eyes any longer. “If I go back to the Cage, you’ll hurt me. I- I don’t know if I want this”.  
“Oh, Sammy”, the Devil sighed in a sympathetic voice. He kindly stroked his temple. “Of course I’m gonna hurt ya”.  
Sam’s eyes widened in terror.  
“It’s what you want. It’s everything you can ever imagine. I mean, come on, look at state of you. Look at what you’ve done to yourself. Without me, your life is empty. Meaningless. Alright, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows in the Cage, but at least that pain, that desperation, they were real. Tangible. Much more so than this so-called reality of yours”.  
“This is real”, Sam protested weakly.  
“Then why do you feel like this?”, Lucifer insisted. “I know how you feel. I’m inside your noggin, remember? I know there’s an emptiness inside you, and it’s consuming you. You’re thankful for my voice ‘cause the sound of silence is driving you crazy. Big brother, your surrogate father – there’s a wall between you and them. Whatever they do or say, they can’t reach you. Once again, I’m your only companionship”.  
Sam opened his mouth. Not a sound came out.  
“Admit it, Sammy. You need the Cage. You need me”.  
The world became blurry as Sam’s eyes filled with tears.  
It hurt. It hurt so bad.  
Sam drew a shaky breath. “What should I do?”

The house was so quite Sam would have heard a pin drop. The only noise came from Bobby’s light snoring. The man had fallen asleep with his face in a book, probably while researching about whatever Dean was hunting at the moment.  
A life of hunt allowed Sam to sneak around Bobby without putting the man’s trained ears on alert.  
_I’m so sorry, Bobby. I wish it didn't have to be this way._  
He went straight for the knives drawer and chose his knife, long, thin, and sharp. He made sure of it by absently running his thumb over the blade. He looked at the blood, feeling numb. It was like walking through the fog – but he knew, soon his mind would be clear. All it’d take was one cut. To the bone.  
“Enough with this useless, pathetic life, Sammy”, said Lucifer’s alluring voice. “Come to me. I’ll take care of you”.  
Sam swallowed. “Enough”, he agreed in a whisper.  
His only regret was not being able to say goodbye to Dean. Oh, Dean was going to be devastated. He’d never understand why his little brother had made that choice. He’d never forgive him.  
A single tear fell down his cheek. He brought the knife to his throat and-  
The front door opened.  
“Hi Bobby, I’m ho-”  
Dean froze. His eyes took in the scene in a few seconds – Sam, the knife against his throat, Bobby still out cold.  
Before Sam could take a decision, Dean was on him. He twisted his wrist, forcing it away from the carotid arthery, and tore the knife out of his grip.  
Sam reacted. He fought for the possession of the knife, tried to throw himself on the blade, but his body was exhausted, weakened by the inactivity and the fasting and he was bested with no difficulty. Bobby, waken by the confusion, rushed to help Dean and together they managed to immobilize the younger Winchester.  
“Boy, calm down...”  
“Sammy, stop! Stop it!”  
“LET ME GO”, Sam cried.  
But Dean didn’t let go. Dean didn’t let go.  
He hold him tight while Sam thrashed and hit him and Bobby and yelled and yelled, yelled his pain and his anguish, yelled at them to kill him, to get it over with, yelled until his throat hurt and he tasted blood.  
The shouting broke into desperate sobs. Among the words that came out of Sam’s mouth there was _enough_ and _kill me_ and _empty_.  
Dean’s already cracked heart broke into a million pieces. At once, he hugged his baby brother.  
“It’s okay, Sammy”, he said. Before he knew it, he was crying too. “It’s gonna be okay”.  
Sam returned the hug. He clutched at his brother with desperation, as though Dean was the only thing that stopped him from being dragged under water.  
It hurt. It hurt so bad.  
He remembered he was alive.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I publish on AO3 and also the first time I translate one of my fics (you can find the same fic with the same title in Italian on my EFP account). I did my best, I hope I didn't make too many mistakes and that you enjoyed the story despite, or maybe because of all the angst. Thanks for reading! ^.^


End file.
